Welcome to my writing corner. Here you'll find stand alone stories and tales that stretch much longer. You'll find tales ranging from medieval adventure to modern stories about real people with a sci-fi twist. If you like/hate what you read, drop me a line and let me know.

You can find the stories grouped by the labels just to the right.

Monday, September 28, 2009

“Hero’s” Story – Chapter 22

We slept in the woods that night. Spoke in hushed tones. Our bodies shivered, not from the cold, but from what had just happened. Adrenaline was replaced by fear and doubt. In the morning we said our goodbyes. They’d go on the run; I knew I’d never see them again. I remember thinking that life seemed just a bit lonelier. If only I knew what I’d done to myself.

I headed home, watched my apartment from across the street for two hours before going in. Bionic erased any electronic evidence of what happened, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I crashed as soon as the door closed behind me.

I woke up two days later. Took the longest shower of my life, headed to IHOP and ate the biggest meal ever, flew to the top of the tallest building in town and just sat. It was midday; I just listened to the cars driving past, the people shopping, working, living life. For just an hour I felt close to normal. Well, normal for me.

After the last few days my “costume” was trashed. Jeans shredded, shirt filled with bullet holes. Lost my leather jacket when the tank shot me. I spent some time picking up some new clothes, a dozen roses and a batch of fresh cupcakes.

When the sun had finally set, I flew over to Julie’s house. The window was closed but unlocked. I opened it and slid inside.

“Julie?” I didn’t want to scare her.

She wasn’t in the bedroom, or upstairs at all. I headed downstairs and into the living room. An end table was flipped over; the lamp that usually sat atop it lay in a thousand pieces in the far corner of the room. Into the kitchen, it was worse, pots and pans littered the floor, utensils were strewn across the counter, pictures torn off the wall.

“Julie?” My heart pounded loudly in my chest.

Into the hallway, blood pooled on the hard wood, leaking out from the bathroom. Opened the bathroom door; mirror lay in shards, porcelain shattered, bloody towel rack ripped of the wall.

I dropped the roses; they fell into the sea of blood covering the tile floor. My heart sank. Red hair drenched in wet crimson, her limbs twisted impossible directions. Her eyes open, white haze filled them, mouth open slightly, lips glossy with lipstick.


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